


Beyond the River

by Rydain



Category: Original Work, Three Kingdoms - All Media Types
Genre: China, Family, Gen, Historical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-08
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rydain/pseuds/Rydain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A niece of Cao Cao was betrothed to Sun Kuang, brother of Sun Ce, to bolster an alliance between north and south. Uprooted and unsettled, Cao Daiyu embarks on her journey.</p><p>Daiyu's given name is lost to the ages, as are the particulars of her welcome into the Sun family fold. This story presents a take on how the events may have transpired, with various perspectives on Han Chinese marriage and family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Outset

**Author's Note:**

> All of the Cao and Sun clansmen and women, as well as Zhou Yu, are historical figures. Most are based on Sanguozhi biographies with some inspiration from fitting portrayals in other Three Kingdoms media. Cao Daiyu and Sun Kuang's characterizations are original to me.

Cao Daiyu perched on her seat with the unmoving precision of a doll set out for display. Her shoulders were pulled back, her knees together, her hands neatly arranged in her lap. The wide sash cinched around her waist allowed little opportunity to slacken her posture. Although the shutters had been opened to let a crisp autumn breeze into the carriage, a thin sweat was forming under the layered brocade of her travel attire. Bedecked in the finery of a bird set to spread her wings, Daiyu felt more like a chick shoved from the nest at the first clumsy indications of flight.

Daiyu had awaited her betrothal with all the eagerness of any other girl in town, dreaming of the day when the matchmaker paid her a visit. The wise old woman would draw Daiyu's birth chart and cast her hexagrams, and her wrinkled face would light up with joy as the planets aligned and good fortune arose from the coins laid out on the table. Then she would bring in the young man himself, gallant and handsome and fated to fall in love with Daiyu at first sight.

Indeed, the proposal had swept Daiyu off her feet - more literally than she had imagined.

Daiyu had no charts, no runes, no sure sign from Heaven that everything would work out for the best. She only had the name of Sun Kuang, a son of that great family ruling over the southlands beyond the Chang Jiang River. A letter had arrived, followed by a shipment of trunks overflowing with jewelry and tiger skins and other fine gifts for her parents. And then her dowry was packed, the drivers were hired, and she was stuffed into this carriage with a token farewell and the pins of adulthood still tight in her coiled hair. Cao Ren, a distant uncle assigned as her escort, kept watch from the bench across from her. How fitting to be brought into the care of a man she had never met by one who was just as unfamiliar.

At least uncle Ren made a reasonable traveling companion. Sensing that Daiyu was in no mood to talk, he had offered a greeting and refrained from pressing her beyond a brief reply. With his broad frame and martial bearing, Ren was a picture of stoicism. Another man might have been cold and intimidating, like the north gate guard with a habit of puffing his chest and staring down everyone who approached. Ren's fortitude was assuring rather than threatening, tempered by a gentleness of sorts. His sleek eyes were placid, his nose smoothly curved, his square jaw softened by a short, shaggy beard. When he spoke again, his voice was deep and kindly.

"We'll be riding for several days," Ren said. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable."

Daiyu had relished a brief youthful bliss, remembered in golden glimpses of summer evenings when she had run and played with her brothers. When she had soiled her hands and smudged her clothing, picking flowers and catching frogs to show the gardener who was too old to chase after them himself. Then the dirt and the freedom had been taken away, replaced by a chiding litany brought on by every transgression from slouching to sneaking off to producing strange sounds on her _guqin_ just for the fun of it. _That's not a proper way for a lady to behave. _This perpetual admonishment was the first response that sprung to mind.

"But it wouldn't be proper."

"I'd say it's less proper for you to be miserable." Ren removed the thick cushion from his seat and offered it to her. "Here. You can lie down and use this as a pillow."

"Won't you be miserable yourself?"

Ren shrugged. "It's no worse than sleeping on the ground."

Though Daiyu allowed herself the luxury of loosening her sash, she kept her strict posture until her head began to nod. Who knew how uncle Ren maintained his composure, but perhaps he was sensible for not expecting her to do the same. Slipping off her shoes, Daiyu curled up with the spare cushion rolled under her head. She undid her hair, arranging it to flow down her back, and was still holding onto the pins when sleep overtook her.

* * *

The hard wooden carriage bench was more irksome than Cao Ren had let on, but he could stand to deal with the discomfort. His thirteenth year had been a shiftless blur of avoiding schoolwork in favor of fist fights and forays around the countryside. At that same age, the young woman napping across from him had been thrown into full-on adulthood. Daiyu deserved any relief that she could get.

Ren considered this trip to be relief enough from the past months of strife. At last, Cao Cao had put a triumphant end to the feud with his rival Zhang Xiu. The long and bitter conflict had cost him a beloved son, a trusted bodyguard, and nearly his own head as well. Ren himself had spearheaded the final counterattack, rousing the broken spirits of the soldiers struggling to cover his lord's retreat. The din of the fight still roared in his ears, and there would be more to come before Cao Cao could settle the turmoil for good. Never content with his station, Yuan Shao had been wrestling for control of the capital. Perhaps that dispute would also boil over into war, but such matters were best left unconsidered for the moment. This was a time of building relations rather than breaking them. A refreshing change and a welcome opportunity, even though it sent Ren away from his growing family.

Kin to a close military associate, Li Xiao Min had been introduced to Ren several years prior. The two of them had ridden their horses along the trails near her father's estate, speaking of the yellow-scarved rebels and their irony of furthering a Way of Peace by wreaking havoc throughout the land. She had painted the misty mountains of Pei for Ren to take with him on campaigns, and he had taught her how to shoot a straight arrow. Before long, they had become husband and wife.

Ren had joined Xiao Min in welcoming their firstborn son into the world, and then the war drums had called him away once again. While Ren had been off leading men to victory in skirmishes near and far, Cao Tai had grown from a bundle in his mother's arms to an energetic lad who settled down at her patient reminders to be quiet in the house and keep the rough and tumble outdoors. Tai had taken to the horse right away, sitting tandem at the front of the saddle as Ren had ridden with his father when he was too small to handle the reins himself. Another child was on the way, foretold to be a daughter. Then again, the same had been said about Tai.

Daiyu shifted in her sleep, nestling into her improvised pillow. Even in slumber, she maintained the air of dignity shown from the outset of her journey. If only Daiyu could have enjoyed a longer courtship, but this whirlwind of an alliance left no time for that luxury. In accordance with custom, marriages served to promote family relations. Ren and Xiao Min had been brought together to strengthen the bonds between his clan and hers. Yet she had come to him as a friend instead of being sent to his front gates at the dawn of adulthood. When the time came, it would be ideal for their own children to have the same opportunity.

Daiyu stirred, sat up, stretched a hand out for the water flask that Ren offered to her. She helped herself to a long drink, looking out at the orange sun hanging low over the distant hills. "When will we be stopping?"

"At nightfall. The horses were exchanged while you slept." Ren indicated a box of food on the seat next to him. "There is dinner here if you're hungry."

Daiyu's face fell, and she shuffled in her seat.

"Why do you ask?"

A flush rose into her cheeks as she bade a few moments before answering. "I have to go."

Ren smiled. "That can be arranged."

* * *

They stopped for the night at an inn nestled up against a deep forest. Cao Ren left the carriage first. Daiyu alighted with all of her practiced grace - head demurely ducked, skirts controlled, delicate yet firm step on the ledge by the door - but her cramped legs stumbled on the way out. Ren steadied her, and she regained her balance after a momentary wobble.

Daiyu and Ren were shown to their chambers, trailed by a porter with their trunks and her _guqin_ case in tow. A tray of tea and steamed bread waited on the low table in the sitting room. Though Daiyu had eaten earlier, her usual dinner had been a drop in the bucket against the stress of a long day's travel. She plucked a single bun from the tray and savored its chewy delight in controlled nibbles, hoping to fool her stomach into satisfaction. Merely awakened, it demanded more with an audible growl. The next roll went down in two large bites, followed by another and another. Ren only took an occasional bun for himself and refilled their teacups as necessary. Before long, the tray had been emptied and Daiyu was discreetly brushing crumbs from her clothing.

"How are you feeling?" Ren asked.

"Much better, thank you." And an afterthought - "I apologize. I don't normally have such an appetite."

Ren laughed. "It's nothing compared to mine. Are you still hungry?"

"Not any more."

They sipped their tea for a few moments until Daiyu indicated her _guqin_. "Do you mind if I play?"

"I would be delighted."

Daiyu removed the instrument from its case and set it on the table. She checked the tuning with a series of soft strums and tightened a string that had gone flat since her last practice session. Her fingers hovered over the touching board, unsure of which song might best suit the occasion.

Perhaps none of them would.

She plucked the lowest string, allowing its earthy twang to resonate throughout the room. Four more deep sounds followed with measured ease, placid as a creek winding its way through the forest. A brief cascade of high tones flitted over their echo, a flourish of sunlight on the dark green water. Daiyu strummed the current onward, bending the sounds with nimble slides of her left fingers as her right hand danced over the strings. Carrying a rhythm that swelled warm and bright inside her with the calm of the river flowing toward a new day.

Ren had been relaxing on his heels, idly observing Daiyu's performance. When she finished, he regarded her with a nod of approval. "Well done. What is that song called?"

"It doesn't have a name." After a moment's consideration - "I composed it just now."

Ren's eyes widened. "That's quite a talent."

Daiyu flushed. "I'm glad you say so." Her tutor was a frowning man who prized rote memorization over all. One sour note brought a rap on the knuckles demanding that she start the song over again. When Daiyu had the chance to practice alone, the music came alive in her hands. Her compositions varied each time she played them - a different tone here, a change of tempo there - but the feeling remained the same, which was her main concern. "Do you play, too?"

"I learned the basics many years ago. I can't say that I've stayed in practice." Ren leaned over the table, studying the _guqin_. "Would you like me to give it a try?"

"Only if you wish to do so."

Ren gestured for them to switch places, and he sat down to perform a simple song that Daiyu had learned at the beginning of her studies. With a look of concentration and a purposeful set to his mouth, Ren appeared to be planning each movement like an order to his men. He plucked and slid with a heavy hand, with straightforward motions rather than the swooping flourish of Daiyu's tutor. Yet Ren's utilitarian style had a charm of its own, especially because it was borne from a sincere effort to entertain her.

"How was it?" Ren raised a brow. "Bad, or awful?"

Daiyu smiled. "It was better than you thought."

"Glad to hear it. Still, I'll leave the music to you from now on."

Happy to oblige, Daiyu returned to her seat. She performed another song of her own, a refrain with the lithic languor of an ancient mountain pass, and a cheery tune about old friends that had been a favorite of Ren's mother. This last piece had verses to go with it, and Ren softly sang them in a rich baritone. From outside came the commotion of carriages stopping for the night, soon followed by a drunken chorus from the tavern on the ground floor of the inn. Giving in to a sudden cheekiness, Daiyu improvised an accompaniment to the off-key shouting of lyrics too muffled to understand. Ren responded with a hearty laugh and a regret that he could not follow along, explaining that the words were nothing he wished to sing in her presence.

"Why?" Daiyu asked. "What's the song about?"

Ren reddened, looking down at the table before meeting her eyes again. "Do you truly wish to know?"

"I'm supposed to be grown now, right? Besides, I'm sure I'll hear worse at some point."

"All right." Ren took a moment to compose himself. "It's a song about...womanly companionship. The sort that men seek when they're away from their wives on long campaigns. Or when there is no wife for them to come home to."

"Oh, the sort that brother brags about to his friends when he thinks no one is around to overhear." Daiyu snorted. "It can't be much more vulgar than that."

Ren laughed. "You might be unpleasantly surprised."

Suspecting that she would, Daiyu returned to the _guqin _with a wry smile. "I'll trust your judgment."

They shared music and conversation until the hour grew late. The inn quieted down as its rowdy patrons turned in for the night, and Daiyu and Ren settled in to sleep as well. Plainly decorated, Daiyu's room was welcoming in its simplicity. A vase of fall flowers brightened the windowsill, and the bed covers had been scented with subtle perfume. Yet it lacked the comfort of the chamber where Daiyu had spent every other night in memory. The pillow was an odd cradle for her head, the mattress overly yielding. Insects buzzed and chattered in the forest outside. Though Daiyu had steeled herself to leave home behind, a bolt of poignancy struck her with the realization that she would never return. Slow tears traced down her cheeks as she found her way to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_ describes the wife of Sun Kuang as Cao Ren's daughter. According to historical sources, her father was an unnamed younger brother of Cao Cao. Ren escorts Daiyu as a nod to that common attribution and a possible explanation for it.
> 
> Typically performed at the age of fourteen or later, the pinning ceremony represented a passage into adulthood for young women. Young men participated in a similar ceremony, receiving caps instead. The age of marriage was flexible. Depending on how close they were to a traditional age of adulthood, those who were wedded early might be pinned or capped before that time as well.


	2. Arrival

Cao Ren and Daiyu traveled at a comfortable pace, taking some time to sightsee when the midday rest happened to occur at a proper town rather than a way station indistinguishable from any other. They passed their evenings with games and chatter and the relaxing pleasure of Daiyu's music. Much to Ren's relief, she did not ask to learn any of the bawdy lyrics that seemed to be universal knowledge among inebriated men. But she eagerly absorbed the basics of _weiqi_, beating Ren at an occasional round. After a particular well-fought victory, Daiyu jokingly suspected that Ren had allowed her to win. He had not, and that was the honest truth.

Despite these opportunities to unwind, their backs grew weary from long hours spent on the rigid benches of the carriage. When the Chang Jiang stretched before them in all its great and shining glory, it brought a breath of refreshment as deep as its pure waters. The city of Jianye sprawled over the opposite bank of the river, bordered by high walls and the same lush greenery that covered the surrounding landscape.

A boat awaited them at the docks, identified by the Sun family name painted on its sail. Daiyu ran on ahead as Ren helped the porters carry their belongings onboard. She stood at the upcurved prow, taking in the scenery as the brisk wind loosed tendrils of hair from the plait pinned up to the back of her head. Ren drank it all in as well. Though he had been roaming the forests and meadows since his youth, the splendor of nature never ceased to amaze him. It varied from place to place, from season to season. The autumn vista before him would soon fade into the bleakness of winter, only to be reborn in the subsequent spring. And even the drab months had their own sort of stark beauty.

They spoke little throughout the crossing and the ride through the bustling city. Daiyu was visibly enraptured by the lively enterprise of the markets, the tiered buildings rising high above paved brick roads, the bureaucrats and seamstresses and laborers all jabbering amongst themselves as they weaved through the crowds. Ren's thoughts had turned to the realm of politics. The Cao and Sun families were akin to two dogs in the same yard. Though often content to prowl their usual spots, they would quarrel now and then over a choice cut of meat. Not so long ago, Sun Ce had foiled a ploy of Cao Cao to take over a piece of his territory. Now the clans were regarding each other with a wary respect that this diplomacy intended to deepen into a truce. Communications had been amicable, but the stiff formality of letters concealed the sort of tensions that had a way of emerging in a face to face talk. As the envoy for his family, Ren could not help but feel the weight of this exchange on his shoulders.

Their convoy arrived at a majestic estate guarded by a pair of uniformed men at the front gate. Ren and Daiyu disembarked, smoothing their attire as the doors opened onto a spacious courtyard where three people waited to greet them. Front and center was Sun Ce, head of the clan, a dashing young man distinguished by his ornate cap. The man beside him stood with the poise of a veteran instructor at the imperial university. To their left was a stout, handsome woman well into adulthood, her neatly bunned hair streaked with the first hints of silver.

Silence hung between them for a long and tense moment. Then Ce burst into a grin, clapping his hands together. "Welcome to the south! It's great to have you here."

The other man's voice was a calm contrast to Ce's booming cheer. "Are you forgetting your formalities as usual?"

"Who needs them?" Ce laughed. "I'm Sun Ce. This is my sworn brother, Zhou Yu, also known as the Minister of Sensibility. And this is my mother, Lady Wu. She helps run the show around here." Lady Wu returned the sentiment with a nod.

Ren bowed. "I am Cao Ren, cousin of Cao Cao. May I introduce my niece, Cao Daiyu, soon to be joining your family. She has a quick wit and a great talent for music." Daiyu flushed, and Ren felt a touch of pride. She might only be a distant relation, but their time together had brought him genuine joy. Daiyu's betrothed would certainly appreciate her companionship as well.

Lady Wu smiled. "Pleased to meet you both. I would love to stay and chat, but we must prepare for your official welcome. Daiyu, would you come with me?" Boggling through her best attempts at sophistication, Daiyu did as instructed. The two of them headed off through the courtyard as the porters followed with trunk after trunk of dowry.

"She's throwing a banquet tonight," Ce explained. "We've got a while before then. How about we all sit down for a drink?"

Yu shot him a direct look. "I'd say we have an appointment to discuss." A teenage brother of Ce, already showing a strong aptitude for bureaucratic work, was to be employed by one of Cao Cao's ministries. Ren had been entrusted to finalize the arrangements.

"And I'd say there's plenty of time for that later."

Ren nodded agreement. "I came here to strengthen a bond between your family and mine. Let's all be at ease with one another before we speak of business."

"That settles it." Ce grinned. "Great minds think alike."

Yu sighed under his breath, failing to hide a wry smile of his own. "As you say, brother."

* * *

Cao Daiyu's family had owned one of the larger homes in town. Compared to the Sun estate, it was a mere hut. The central building alone would swallow up most of her father's land. Beyond it stretched a tapestry of pavilions and yards and gardens, all maintained with meticulous care. Lady Wu led the way through this wondrous maze as Daiyu attempted to mark each turn in her mind. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I think I need a map."

Lady Wu laughed. "This place can be overwhelming." She touched an assuring hand to Daiyu's shoulder. "In time, you will feel at home. I'll do what I can to help."

Daiyu's apartments occupied a full wing of the great house, with a quartet of maidservants assigned to their upkeep. Their leader, Lanying, greeted Daiyu with a sunny smile that her shy reciprocation could not quite match up to. With an understanding nod, Lanying set about unpacking the trunks as Daiyu explored her chambers. Her parents' house had been crammed with a gaudy assortment of knickknacks that demanded attention instead of blending into the background. Her new accommodations were decorated with subdued luxury. Some rooms featured murals of exotic birds, soaring skies, distant mountains. Others were paneled in plain dark wood, a fitting backdrop to the paintings hung throughout. Shelves lined a wall of the sitting room, ready to be stocked with books at Daiyu's request.

"It's beautiful," Daiyu breathed.

"I'm glad you think so. I chose the decor myself. Of course, anything can be changed if you wish."

"Oh, no. I love it just the way it is. Especially the tiger." The animal in question had been painted on the wall across from the entrance to Daiyu's chambers. It sat with regal bearing, keeping a keen watch over the doorway. Although her ancestral house had not followed this particular tradition, Daiyu understood the tiger to be a guardian against evil spirits.

"The tiger means a great deal to our family. It represents our ties to the homelands and the courage of our fathers." Lady Wu smiled. "I was pleased to learn that you were born in its year."

"My parents weren't," Daiyu replied without thinking. She reddened, clamping her mouth shut in a belated attempt to shove the remark back where it should have been left unstated. Associated with headstrong unpredictability, the sign of the tiger took blame for every time she was too loud, too curious, too resistant to the whims of authority. This hasty comment of hers fit right into that pattern.

"Think of it this way. Where others see troublemaking, I see assertiveness. And I find that admirable." Lady Wu changed the subject with an inquisitive tilt of her head. "What would you prefer to take now - a walk or a rest?"

"I'd like a walk, please." Daiyu had done enough sitting over the past several days, and she could stand to get a head start on finding her way around.

They visited more gardens, pausing at a pond to watch goldfish lazily swim among the lotus flowers. A patterned oval rock turned out to be a tortoise, which gave Daiyu a token glance before tucking its head away once again. Sharp clacking could be heard as they approached the rear of the house. The landscaping gave way to an open square of packed dirt where two boys vigorously sparred with wooden swords. Their clothing was plain, their hair protected by fitted hoods, their faces flushed and grimacing from exertion. Seizing an advantage indistinguishable to Daiyu, the smaller one drove his partner back to the edge of the yard with a series of skilled lunges and stabs. He gave a triumphant shout, immediately yelling for a rematch. The other obliged with less enthusiasm.

Lady Wu nodded toward the taller of the two. "That is Sun Kuang." Daiyu's stomach leaped, and she tried to catch a better glimpse of his face. "And his sister, Shang Xiang."

"Sister?" Daiyu squeaked in shock.

"Yes, sister." Lady Wu's voice carried a note of pride. "My other children usually grabbed at loose sleeves or hair ornaments. Shang Xiang always reached for her father's sword. When she began to explore the estate, the armory was her first destination."

Shang Xiang won another round, celebrating with a showy twirl of her weapon. Daiyu imagined the heft of the sword in her hand, wondered how much it might hurt to land on her rear as Kuang had just done. "Is he allowing her an easy time?"

"I doubt it. Kuang practices with diligence, but his heart is not in the fight. I suspect he would rather be playing his flute."

Daiyu brightened. The notes of the _guqin_ were dark, resonant, molded by her own two hands. In a world that expected her to tiptoe, they had weight. The flute made an ideal accompaniment, floating high above with airy elegance. "Might he enjoy a duet?"

"With you, I'm sure he will."

Wishing to save her formal introduction for the evening banquet, Daiyu returned to her chambers. She stopped into a study on the way, selecting a book of poetry to pass the time beforehand. When she sat down to read it, the pillow seemed far more inviting. Daiyu stretched out, letting the birds lull her to sleep in the embrace of her new home.


	3. Introduction

Lanying roused Cao Daiyu from her nap as dinner hour approached. After she took a few moments to wake up, the maidservants helped her into the elaborate gown made especially for this banquet. The white under robe had a floral pattern to its weave. The dress itself was rich purple silk, the color of an early night sky. Its waist sash had been kept secret from Daiyu until now, and her eyes widened in awe of its craftsmanship. Made of the same gold brocade that bordered the collar and sleeves of her gown, it had been embroidered with a pair of cranes relaxing beneath a willow bower. The birds' feathers had been built up in layers, and the branches stood out as well. A careful touch revealed that the fluffy white willow blossoms were as soft as they appeared.

Daiyu's hair was combed, plaited, and secured high on her head by pins with floral finials of carved jade. Her face was powdered, her lips accentuated with rouge. Drops of scented oil were dabbed onto her wrists and the hollow of her throat. Lady Wu, who had been observing the beauty rites with quiet approval, held up a mirror for Daiyu's first look at the full effect.

Even with a moderate application of cosmetics, the difference was striking. Daiyu's lips were a flower bud, her slender eyes bright black against her lightened skin. Her brows, which she rarely noticed otherwise, arched with a graceful curve. Piled up with all its adornments, her ebony hair formed a proper headdress by itself. Daiyu drew her shoulders back, raised her chin, and did her best to respond with finesse. "Well done. I am very pleased."

Lady Wu smiled. "I thought you'd be. You look splendid. Shall we be off to dinner, then?"

She escorted Daiyu to the great hall where the banquet awaited. The Sun family sat on a dais at the far end, with a mural of varicolored phoenixes covering the wall behind them. Guest tables lined the sides of the long chamber facing the center aisle. Servants stood in the corners carrying pots of tea and trays heaped high with boxed food. Daiyu noticed her allotted space next to Sun Kuang - still too distant for a detailed view - and a younger girl who had to be Shang Xiang. She also picked out uncle Ren, who had been seated near the dais. He caught her eye and held it with an assuring look.

The two of them stepped into the room. All rose to their knees in deference. Lady Wu's announcement was brief yet gracious, spoken with commanding reverence.

"Family, friends, dearest associates," she said. "Please welcome the newest daughter of the south. I am proud to introduce the betrothed of Sun Kuang - Lady Cao Daiyu."

Daiyu glided down the hall, buoyed by a thrill of excitement from this mention of her title. At the Sun family table, she bowed to each relation in turn. Zhou Yu and Sun Ce were seated at one end, followed by younger brothers Quan and Yi. Shang Xiang barely looked up from her place mat. Kuang gaped momentarily before minding his manners. Daiyu had to remember hers as well. Kuang shared the sturdy handsomeness of his kin, with features finely contoured where his brothers' were strong and square.

Kuang smiled, inviting Daiyu to sit. She situated herself, and they both stared ahead as if waiting for the other to break the silence. Daiyu had rehearsed this first meeting at home, memorized the stilted lines to practice over and over until they ran through her head at all hours of the day. Now she could not recall a single one.

Instead, Daiyu spoke her mind. "I heard you enjoy playing the flute."

Kuang brightened. "I do. Very much so. It's my favorite pastime."

"I say the same about my _guqin_."

"I'm afraid I'm not as good with that."

"That's all right." Daiyu shrugged. "I say the same about the flute."

They met each other's eyes, and their nervous smiles relaxed into genuine delight.

* * *

Sun Shang Xiang prodded at her food, surrounding the meat with a fortress of noodles. If only she could wall herself off from this dreadful banquet. Mother had offered her a new gown, as if that would make it any fun to mind her manners for an entire evening. It suited her tastes - solid red, subtly decorated, comfortably belted - but the sleeves kept threatening to dangle in her dinner. Her hair was done up in a simple bun, which was all she had agreed to sit still for. She had tolerated the addition of beaded hairpins, admitting to herself that they did look pretty in the mirror.

"Shang Xiang?" Daiyu asked.

She stopped eating, wondering what brother Kuang's wife wanted with her. Daiyu had swanned to the table in robes with great wide sleeves and skirts to match, bringing a cloud of perfume along for the ride. She walked and ate in the measured steps of one who lived by the endless nitpicks of etiquette. Shang Xiang suspected that Daiyu even smelled like flowers when relieving herself in the bathroom.

"I saw you sparring earlier."

Shang Xiang jerked her chin up with a glare and a matching response at the ready. She bit her tongue instead. Daiyu's eyes were curious rather than narrowed with judgment.

"I was impressed," Daiyu continued. "You fight like - like -"

"Like a boy?" Shang Xiang demanded.

Daiyu flushed. "Like a skilled warrior."

It would be a compliment either way. Even so, throwing people off guard was a habit carried in from the training yard where Shang Xiang would practice until twilight if no one called for her. Where she was at home with her sword, her bow, her athletic attire that securely covered the legs instead of leaving her with that unclothed feeling of bare skin under a skirt. With brother Kuang, who had been her loyal sparring partner since the beginning. Comparatively speaking, he was not much of a martial artist. Kuang lacked Ce's boisterous style, Quan's systematic technique, Yi's boundless energy. Yet he was closer to Shang Xiang's size than their older brothers, and he made her earn each victory. Lately he had been distracted - especially this afternoon, when his first glimpse of Daiyu had replaced all of his fight with an absent grin. But at least he tried, and at least he was there.

That was more than Kuang could say for himself now. He and Daiyu had returned to blathering about song after song, about tones and harmonies and all sorts of musical nonsense that Shang Xiang never had a head for. The flute squeaked and stuttered and made her feel lightheaded after a while. The _guqin_ had her fingers tripping over themselves. In one of his ruder moments, Quan had compared her singing voice to the brassy honk of a goose. Shang Xiang dealt with music studies in the same way as every other skill that Mother insisted upon teaching her. She got through the basics, painful as they might be, and could leave off there if she wished. If only she had such a say in her brother's marriage.

Then again, it could be worse. At least Kuang enjoyed Daiyu's company, even if he was wrapped up in conversation instead of slyly commiserating with Shang Xiang over the dullness of a formal dinner. Daiyu was also enjoying herself rather than picking at her meal with prissy concern. She asked for more steamed bread, gestured with loaded chopsticks in hand, sputtered on her tea at some comment of Kuang's. And she was the first to dunk her sleeve in the soup. Perhaps she was worth a shot after all.

"Daiyu."

A curious look. "Yes?"

"Want to try it sometime?"

She wrinkled her brow, remembering. "Sparring?"

Shang Xiang nodded. Daiyu took a moment of consideration before responding.

"How about tomorrow?"

A grin spread over Shang Xiang's face. "You're on."


End file.
